


There's Nothing but the Rain

by loftyperch



Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Costume Kink, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, First Time, Identity Porn, M/M, Secret Identity, Timeline What Timeline, Unwitting Statutory Rape, Wade Wilson Tries To Be Good, everyone is bi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2019-11-05 00:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17908589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loftyperch/pseuds/loftyperch
Summary: Peter sees something he wasn’t supposed to. Several things, actually.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sticking with movie canon for almost everything, but fudging the timelines such that Spider-Man will have been an Avenger ( _trainee!_ ) for a while when Civil War rolls around. Also gonna pretend that the Deadpool 2 mid-credits never happened a) because it works better for selfish slash purposes and b) because if they were going to save her then it should have been part of the plot, not just a “lol n/m” at the end. Gah!
> 
> Like Peter Parker, I own nothing.

I was naive from the start; I can see that now. I shouldn't have gone looking for trouble. I shouldn't have chosen that roof to hide on. And I _really_ shouldn't have gone to Avengers Tower that day …

But it was pouring, and I was already in the neighborhood, so I webbed up to the bright blue A and clambered up onto the balcony. Everything was fine till I opened the door onto an uncharacteristically dark and empty lounge, and my spider sense gave a halfhearted tingle of warning.

"Friday?" I asked, totally not all nervously. 

When she didn't answer I got another, stronger sense that something was, if not wrong, then definitely _up_. I couldn't just stand there; in my line of work, when you get a hunch, you investigate, not shrug and hope it's nothing. And when I heard a stuttering moan from down the hall, I lost even the pretense of a choice. Someone could have been injured! A spy or burglar or whatever could have beaten up an innocent cleaning lady! Some henchman could have had a gun to Mr. Stark's head! So I flicked on my night vision, crawled up to the ceiling, snuck down to the only open door and peered within. 

At first I wasn't quite sure what I was seeing, then it all came into sudden, agonizing focus.

Tony _was_ inside, but he wasn't hurt. He was on his back, on a bed, all wrapped up in Captain Fucking America. There was a lot of kissing and very little clothing. And, yes, I should have turned around and run screaming back into the downpour ... but I was startled and curious and seventeen. I couldn't help staring for a moment … or two.

Guilt overpowered me quickly though, and I crawled back the way I’d come, ashamed of what I’d seen and how I’d felt. Seeing them together had ripped me in half: one part hard, the other heartbroken. I’d had a crush on Mr. Stark for as long as I could remember. I knew he only saw me as a kid, and I’d always assumed he was straight, so it’s not like I’d gotten my hopes up … but I could never compete with _Captain America_. My hopes had gone from ‘not exactly up’ to ‘six feet under.’

Didn’t make it any less hot, though.

I webbed away as fast as I could, kept going till I found a good hiding spot on the lower roof of a split-level office. There was an access door and an HVAC array very near the taller wall, forming a perfect little alcove in which to relieve some tension.

I _know_ jerking off in semi-public is always the wrong decision, but it was either that or hoof it all the way back to Queens and wait till Aunt May fell asleep. I chose to end my misery in a more timely fashion. Double- and triple-checking for cameras or windows, I braced my back against the wall and peeled down my leggings.

The rain hit me, cold and sharp, and I choked on my own breath. My gloves were just desensitizing enough to _almost_ feel like someone else was touching me (not that I even knew what that felt like). I was already so close to coming that, when my spider sense shot up the back of my neck, I barely felt it. Only when it wouldn’t stop did I slow down and try to think, way too late to hide when the access door beside me banged back on its hinges and someone burst out.

We both froze. He was another costumed vigilante, big and red and black and very heavily armed. I was small and scared and very heavily _un_ armed, literally caught with my pants down. He wavered, like he ought to go but couldn’t, like he wanted to watch but knew he shouldn’t. I could sympathize.

Perhaps it was that sympathy, or perhaps I was just the right combination of insecure and horny. Whatever the reason, I reached out a trembling hand to him, and he came to me eagerly. He fell to his knees and pressed his face between my legs. I yelped aloud and tried to push him away, not because I didn’t like it, but because I liked it too much. Of course, my hands didn’t listen and only pulled him harder against me. He didn’t seem to mind me rubbing off on his mask, letting out some strangled noises of his own and reaching back to cup and knead my ass.

He _wanted_ me. This big, badass stranger found me arousing, and that thought, far more than the feel of wet kevlar on my cock, made me come all over his face.

He stood up, looming over me as I panted and clung to the wall. Then he leaned down and ‘kissed’ me, mask-to-mask.

“Thank you,” he whispered before running off into the rain.

What the hell was he thanking _me_ for?

\------------------------

My ‘internship’ at Stark Industries was a glorified study hall so I could get all my homework done before superhero stuff. After Mr. Stark checked my work, I would spend a few hours either training or patrolling. Needless to say I usually dawdled at school with my friends before heading off to do, well, _more_ school. But the day after my rooftop encounter, I was skidding into the lab at top speed and shouting “Mr. Stark!” even though he was there at the door waiting for me.

He coughed and lowered his tablet, giving me his full attention. “Hey, Pete. Sorry about yesterday.”

“Sorry?” In the manic haze since the incident I’d all but forgotten why I’d been jerking off in the first place. It all came back with a blush.

“I should’ve shut the door even if I thought no one was home.”

“No, no, it’s my fault,” I insisted, trying not to die of embarrassment. “I heard a noise and thought you were hurt or something. It never occurred to me .... wait, how’d you know I was there? Friday was off.”

“Wet footprints on the ceiling. So you’re not, like, scarred for life?”

“I don’t _think_ I am, but Mr. Stark …”

“Oh, thank god. Do you mind not telling anyone? Cap and I aren’t exactly in a committed relationship, if you catch my drift.”

“Of course, but when I left I saw someone …” I pulled a doodle I’d done of my mystery man from my pocket. It wasn’t very good, but the mask was quite distinctive, and Tony went instantly serious when he saw it, all social faux pas falling to the wayside.

“Deadpool.”

The name made me shudder (and not entirely from fear). Tony pulled up a map, and I pointed out the building where he’d found me.

“Yeah, that’s him, all right. This morning a janitor found a room full of Russian mobsters who looked like they’d run into the Boondock Saints, busted ceiling and everything. Deadpool was the prime suspect before you even placed him at the scene.”

“Whose side is he on?”

“No one’s. He’s a mercenary. I’m glad you didn’t try to engage him.”

“I’m glad I didn’t walk into _that_ room halfway through.”

“A little old-man sex isn’t so bad in comparison, huh?”

“Aw, you’re not _old_ , Mr. Stark.”

“Good answer, kid.”

\------------------------

For a month or so I carried on as usual. I wasn’t _obsessed_ with Deadpool; I could still, like, function in society. But I was definitely distracted. I thought about him at school, in the lab, on the beat, in my sleep, and especially in the shower. It was unnerving that I’d been humping his face mere minutes after he’d committed a mass murder. Unnerving … and morbidly fascinating.

Most of my superheroics in that month amounted to some light community policing, but every now and then I’d tangle with a mob tough or someone otherwise connected to bigger things. When I did, I’d ask them about Deadpool. No one knew how to find him.

Then, one Friday night, I was lingering atop a bridal shop in Flushing, not ready to go home, but unable to find any crime to fight, when my spider sense went off. With a nervous thrill I turned to find _him_ perched above and behind me on the next roof over.

“Heard you were lookin’ for me,” he said, voice neutral, guns holstered and swords sheathed.

I crawled up the wall to him, slow and silent and wary. He offered a hand to help me over the ledge, and I took it.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you,” I explained, rather dully, unsure what to make of his posture and muted expression. “Y’know, for not killing me …” I was just sounding dumber as I went, and he was just looking scarier. “If there’s ever anything I can do to return the favor …” I didn’t have the guts or know-how to make the offer seductive, so it just came out stupid. I looked away.

“You’re … _good_ , aren’t you?” He put a finger to my chin and guided my gaze back to his.

“I try to be.”

“Well, I try not to get involved with the good guys. I always end up disappointing them.”

I must have looked pretty disappointed already, ‘cause he sighed and slumped his shoulders, instantly dropping the gritty, stoic facade he’d been cultivating.

“Don’t get me wrong, what happened that day was easily the most erotic experience of my life, and I will never, ever forget it. But you’re a _hero_ , and I’m already a little in love with you, in a very abstract, beautiful stranger, ships-passing-in-the-night sort of way. Anything more than that is just a tragedy waiting to happen.”

I can’t pretend I wasn’t hurt, but I knew exactly what he meant. Whatever I wanted, however much I wanted it, some random mercenary was probably the wrong way to find it.

He kissed me, slower and softer than the first time, our masks a stubborn reminder of all that stood between us. 

"See you 'round, Spidey."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both know they shouldn't … but they both know they will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1aFied2YYVg/)

“So are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or are you just gonna stare at that same page for another hour?”

I threw Mr. Stark a baleful look over the edge of _Physics in Practice_. He just raised an eyebrow, daring me to say I was fine, knowing I’d be lying if I did. In his own way he was even worse than May; at least with her I could say the magic words ‘superhero stuff,’ and she’d back off.

“I saw Deadpool again last night.”

I watched as the gears turned in his head. He could tell I wasn’t _scared_ of Deadpool, so why would I be upset about seeing him? With a sigh, he came to the logical conclusion.

“You like him, huh?”

I held my tongue and turned a blank stare toward my textbook in silent confirmation.

“Can’t say I blame you. He’s got quite the physique.”

“It’s not that … or not _just_ that, anyway.”

“Ah, the mystery, then. The endless possibilities …” His smile was edged with pity. “He’s a lot older than you.”

“ _Everyone’s_ a lot older than me,” I practically snapped. Catching myself, I softened my tone. “Who _is_ he?”

Mr. Stark looked about to resist, but he shrugged instead and told me, calmly and evenly, everything he knew about Wade Wilson. About the cancer, the powers, the scars … about Vanessa.

“He might not be evil, but Deadpool’s still a killer, Pete. He doesn’t foil robberies or face down alien invasions, he blows mob bosses away on behalf of _other_ mob bosses.”

“So you’re saying I’m not allowed to talk to him?”

“I’m saying ‘approach with extreme caution.’ He has perfectly good working relationships with plenty of heroes, myself and Hawkeye included, but he’s probably still in mourning. He might not want any new friends just yet. And he _definitely_ doesn’t want anyone trying to mother hen him.”

It was all so much to process. I could only nod solemnly and return to my homework.

“Hurry it up, kid, I’ve got a hot date tonight.”

\---------------------------------

Barely another month went by before I got my next chance to (extremely cautiously) approach Deadpool. 

School had let out for the summer, so I was allowed to patrol much later, opening up a whole new can of criminal worms. It wasn’t _precisely_ a criminal I was chasing through Hell’s Kitchen that night, though. In the patchy light and dark of the rooftops, I couldn’t quite tell _what_ I was after. It was huge and almost humanoid, shimmering black all over, moving easily at a pace I could barely sustain.

Imagine my surprise when I realized I wasn’t the only one chasing it.

Deadpool streaked red along the next building over, leaping fearlessly across alleys and over ledges. I swung near enough for him to notice me.

“What is that thing?” I shouted.

“A few million bucks if I can catch it.”

We saw the creature slither down a wall and burst into an unremarkable office building, and we both came to a screeching halt on the last ledge before it’s hiding spot. I’ll admit I added an extra flip and twist to my dismount just to show off. But the glance he threw me when I stuck the landing on four inches of brick was worth all the effort.

“Want me to cover the exits?”

“Nah,” he panted, waving away my offer. “It’s not running from us. It’s looking for something. Won’t be leaving just yet.”

The faint sound of human screams and gunfire reached our ears through dark, shattered windows.

“We need to-”

“ _I_ need to get in there. Whatever it is, it can’t kill me. You, on the other hand … would distract me in those tights. Stay here.” Having caught his breath, he launched himself across the void and through the broken window, landing in a roll.

My spider sense was conspicuously silent, so I took the chance and followed him. Deadpool was neither surprised nor amused when I popped up beside him in the gloomy office.

“I’m bad at following instructions,” I shrugged, “just ask Iron Man.”

“I can respect that.” He gestured to the ominous, gaping doorway, torn to splinters when the creature slammed through it. “Just be careful. I don’t want you dying on our first date.”

“Isn’t it our _third_ date?” I didn’t give him a chance to answer before I dashed into the hall, but I thought I heard him laugh.

With night vision engaged, I suddenly realized I wasn’t in a hallway, but on a balcony, overlooking a full scale supervillain lair, complete with evil-looking medical equipment and rows of sinister servers. There were heat signatures on the ground, so I dropped down to check for survivors.

There were none.

I’d seen dead bodies before, but never quite so much blood. Each henchman had been decapitated in a manner which left wet, ragged strings of neck behind. I recoiled and shivered, and still my spider sense told me nothing.

“Where’d the heads go?” Deadpool wondered aloud as he landed a few corpses to my right.

More screams and gunfire echoed below our feet. A flash of fire revealed the stairway to the basement. Deadpool drew his swords and crept toward it. At last my spider sense awoke, blaring, and I cast desperately about for the danger. Within seconds, Karen identified rapidly spreading cracks in the concrete floor. I knelt and pressed my ear to the ground, hearing the whine of failing steel girders.

“Deadpool! The whole place is coming down!” I shouted, about to break for the nearest exit. 

He turned to me, and his eyes went wide. “Behind you!”

I spun, too late, to find the creature barreling toward me. It swung a huge, writhing arm and rag-dolled me right into a bank of computers. I struggled to extricate myself from the sparking pile of pointy objects, and the thing took a step toward me. In a flash, Deadpool was between us. It stopped to roar at him, giving me the seconds I needed to regain my feet.

The floor lurched, and the opposite wall split clean up the middle. With a grunt of effort I slung a web at Deadpool’s back and yanked him beyond the sweep of the creature’s claws. I ran for the closest door and yanked again, this time pulling him from the edge of the crater which opened at his feet, swallowing the creature and most of the lab in a plume of smoke and concrete dust. I kicked in the door and found an office just like the one upstairs. Deadpool pushed past me, grabbing my wrist on the way by. Before I could object, he’d thrown himself through the window, pulling me behind and shielding me with his own body from both the broken glass and the asphalt below.

“Up!” I cried, untangling us. The next building over had a fire escape, so I knelt and basketed my hands. Nodding, he gave me his foot and I boosted him up to grab the railing. I caught up to him, scaling the brick as fast as I could. We barely outran the cloud of dust that billowed out as the whole lair fell in on itself, throwing ourselves onto the roof and gasping for air.

After a moment of rest, I pushed up to my hands and knees. Beside me, Deadpool rolled over and sat. 

“You okay?” he asked.

“I think so.”

He brushed a hand down my back, ghosting across the cuts I was only then starting to feel. I froze when his hand slid beneath my arm to check for broken ribs, and I damn near moaned when it roamed up to probe my neck and jaw. 

Our eyes met and locked, and, before I knew what had happened or who had moved first, we were wrapped around each other in a passionate (if masked) kiss.

“Sorry,” he breathed, pulling away, “I know I’m sending some mixed messages. I’m just …”

“You don’t have to have it all figured out,” I assured him. All _I_ had figured out was that I wanted to get laid. I still had no idea how to reconcile my indiscriminate teenage lust with his profound grief (and his borderline villainy). But that moment, in the wild rush that followed all the near deaths I’d just experienced, was not a good time to think carefully or critically. “Can I kiss you?” I asked without even meaning to. “For real?”

“I should warn you …”

“I’ve seen pictures,” I interrupted, my fingers already working his mask away from the rest of his suit.

He tensed, but didn’t stop me as I pushed the fabric up a few inches. His scarring wasn’t as bad as I’d been bracing myself for, but I didn’t let my eyes linger, much as I wanted to, afraid to make him self-conscious. Instead I pulled up my own mask and let him see my smile.

We moved slowly, both knowing what a big deal this was … and, wow … this was a _big deal_. His mouth was warm and rough against mine, and he was so unexpectedly gentle, holding the back of my head and sighing like he’d wanted this for years.

I lost track of time, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute before a police siren brought us back to our senses. We broke apart, my heart beating too fast and my stomach twisted in fear and joy. For now it was just one cruiser that must have already been nearby, but soon the whole street would be swarmed.

“I should go.” Tearing away, I stood and brushed myself off.

“Need a lift?”

A few blocks away, a cab awaited us, and I was grateful for the chance to rest. Deadpool introduced me to his associate/getaway driver Dopinder, who made a point of telling me what huge fans they were of mine. After that, though, the ride to the Tower was quiet, with only the radio in the background.

Then this really old Avril Lavigne song came on ... 

I stared out my window, and Deadpool stared out his, but somehow our hands found each other, and our fingers twined … and we didn’t let go till we’d reached my stop.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony waltzes in to sitcom the place up a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. For a few weeks now I've been paralyzed with thinking all my ideas are dumb and ridiculous. I still think they're dumb and ridiculous, but I'm feeling better about sharing them.
> 
> Thank you for your patience :3

Running on pure giddy energy, I bounded into the lab and began uploading footage of the monster. Then I called Aunt May to tell her I’d come into contact with a possible extraterrestrial and would have to stay under observation for a day or two … again.

“Will you still love me even if I turn into a giant, slimy monster?”

“Let’s hope we never have to find out. Get some rest, Peter. And be a good houseguest.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I hung up, almost wishing I’d asked her opinion on making out with morally dubious older men. But that was a face-to-face kind of conversation, even if I could ever find the courage to bring it up. Unlike fighting aliens, that shit was _serious_.

A little less than giddy now, I sat at Mr. Stark’s desk to type up a mission report. Next thing I knew, I was being gently shaken awake.

“You okay, kid? What happened?” Captain America was leaning over me, confusion and concern in his eyes.

“Oh, hey. How was Antarctica?” I asked blearily, stretching and yawning (and belatedly realizing some of my cuts still hurt like a bitch).

“Unsuccessful. Looked like Hydra hasn’t used that base in months … but what about _you_?”

Cap waited patiently, nodding along, as I explained in great length and even greater detail, what I’d encountered.

“Could it have survived the collapse?”

“Nothing would shock me less.”

“Well, we’ll just have to track it down. Don’t worry about the report. You can finish it tomorrow. Let’s clean up your back and get you to bed.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I heal quick.”

“God, you’re just like Tony,” Cap growled, marching to the first aid cabinet whether I liked it or not. “First I find you passed out in the lab in the middle of the night, then you yammer on about aliens for twenty minutes without drawing breath, and now you’re refusing even the most basic medical treatment.” He returned with a box of bandaids and a bottle of peroxide.

Feeling like I was in trouble for something, I wilted in contrition.

“The talking thing is fine, but the rest is downright self-destructive. I don’t want to have to worry about _two_ of you.”

Nodding, I racked my uniform top up to my shoulders and hunched over.

“What’s the deal with you and Mr. Stark by the way?”

“How do you mean?”

“I, uh, saw you making out one time. I didn’t mean to.” I stared at my feet while Cap fell still and silent behind me. He finally sighed, and I shivered at the first cold sting of disinfectant.

“Tony’s an amazing guy. He’s brilliant and hilarious and gorgeous … and I absolutely _hated_ him when we first met. Less than a day later, we were … well … It was sudden, but it was real, and we both knew it.”

I sensed another ‘but’ coming.

“ _But_ we also knew that we’d be terrible boyfriends. Everything I’d hated about him at first - the arrogance and the shoot-first attitude - was all still there. And I’m sure he still finds me endlessly frustrating. And, while we’re on the same side, our morals aren’t always aligned. So we don’t date … we just love each other.”

I let his words sink in while he slapped on the last few bandaids.

“Thanks,” I said, more for the honest explanation than the medical care.

“Now go to bed, mister. You can finish your report in the morning.”

\-------------------

After a good night’s sleep full of not-dating-but-deeply-loving-Deadpool dreams, I awoke fully healed and had to yank off all those damn bandaids. I made toast alone in the kitchen, and wandered down to the lab. 

It should be noted at this point that I was wearing an enormous white tee, pulled at random out of the Avengers’ dryer, and the Hello Kitty pajama bottoms I ironically (read sentimentally) kept in my locker for just such occasions.

My spider sense went off on the elevator ride to the lab. Afraid a cable was about to snap or something, I threw myself through the doors as soon as they opened and gratefully watched them shut behind me. Then I turned around, toast dangling from my teeth, to find Tony and Deadpool chatting over coffee.

I stared at them. They stared at me. I pressed for the elevator, but it had already moved along, stranding me in the ever-stretching silence.

I started to panic, but Mr. Stark kept his cool. He had a plan! I could only pray it wasn’t one of his weird ones.

“Uh … is this-” Deadpool started to ask.

“I can see there’s no fooling you, Wade. You’ve discovered our secret ...”

I pounded harder on the call button, illogically believing that a swift exit would keep Deadpool from learning the unsexy, underage truth about Spider-Man.

“... This is my son, Peter.”

“Plot twist!” cried the mercenary, clutching his chest in exaggerated sarcastic shock. “Wait, I’m not the father, am I?”

“I’m afraid so, but, for obvious reasons, I’ll be keeping full custody. And, for other obvious reasons, I hope you’ll keep this on the down low.”

“Scout’s honor. So anyway, if you can find out who owned that building, I’d be much obliged.”

And just like that, I was all but forgotten, free to crumple against the wall for support as they turned back to each other, _what the fuck?!?!?!_ running on a loop in my head.

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” Tony shrugged and tipped his chair back. “And if you can catch that thing, I’ll triple whatever you’ve been offered. Whether it’s an alien or not, I want the first crack at it.”

“Deal.”

Thankfully, the elevator returned to whisk me away from this fresh hell, giving me a private place to lie down and groan pitifully into the void.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst cliché ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Song.](https://youtu.be/pDxoj-tDDIU)
> 
>  
> 
> Apparently a lot of the middle of this chapter was missing, it has been fixed.

A few weeks went by in which I turned eighteen, and a weird weight was lifted from my shoulders. I could vote and gamble. I could die for my country and serve on a jury. There were _lots_ of things I could do all of a sudden. Also in that time, the lie about being Mr. Stark’s son faded to a harmless in-joke (and the final nail in the coffin of my crush on him). I’d never see Deadpool without my mask again, so it would never come back to haunt me, right?

Things were looking up for me, anxiety-wise. I had my secret romance, my secret identity, and the law ever more on my side. The world was my oyster.

Then one evening, on patrol as per usual, I took a quick breather just north of St. Mark’s. After a few minutes of mindlessly checking my phone, I was interrupted by a faint clanging noise. Sensing no danger, I went to investigate and found Deadpool huffing his way up a fire escape.

“How’d you find me?” I asked as I helped him over the ledge.

“Saw you crossing 14th,” he panted.

“And you ran all that way?” I wanted desperately to be flattered (and I’d been having almost this exact fantasy for a couple months now), but I suspected this was far more serious than a booty call. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything!” he cried, throwing his hands up in disgust. “Daenerys went crazy in like two episodes! There was no valonqar! And Arya just fucking _left_!?! I mean what even _was_ that?”

“And now those idiots get to ruin _Star Wars_ …” 

“I know, right?!”

Beneath my jaded fanboy exterior, I was doing heart-eyed cartwheels. He was a nerd! He was a big, sexy, badass, bad-boy _nerd_! And I had a chance with him! I just had to not fuck this up. “But that was months ago. What’s _really_ wrong?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I caught the alien.”

“Isn’t that good news?”

“I can’t turn it over to Tony. I can’t turn it over to _anyone_

"Why not?”

“Okay, this is gonna sound lame and bad and like the worst cliché ever … but it would be way easier to show you than to explain.” 

This was a tough one. It felt wrong to investigate without alerting the Avengers. And it felt really wrong to follow a contract killer to a second location. 

On the other hand, it felt right to gather some concrete intel about the mystery monster. And it felt really right to trust Deadpool.

“Then show me.” 

\--------------- 

So it was that I came to be sitting on a ratty leather armchair, sipping tea with an investigative journalist and his freaking symbiote. When they’d finished their story, I set my mug on the coffee table and shook their hands, and I’m proud to say I held my shit. 

“Um, Deadpool … can we talk for a mo’?”

Once we were safely shut in the adjoining bedroom, though, I completely _lost_ my shit. My hands went flying in all directions. I paced. I spluttered. “This is crazy! And I know I’m not supposed to say that, ‘cause it’s not fair to people who have mental illnesses, but this is _crazy_! There’s just no other word for it. There is no way Mr. Stark is going to believe any of this.” 

Deadpool took me by the shoulders and held me still, pulling me out of the nervous spiral.

“He doesn’t have to. Just give him our coordinates, explanation-free, for all I care. I wouldn’t lose an hour of sleep over forcing Venom to undergo a few simple tests. If that species ever invades, I’ll be the first one in line for the vaccine.” 

“But that’s so cruel.” 

“It is. And it’s something Tony would totally do in this situation. However, speaking as another monster Tony may someday wish to dissect, I _hope_ you’ll try to talk him out of it. Set a good precedent, y’know.” 

“Well, of course I’ll _try_. I’m totally sending this one up the chain of command. I don’t want the lives of two sentient beings on _my_ conscience.” 

“Thank you.” 

He patted my shoulders, and I turned to go. I got as far as opening the window, when it started to rain. The warm, wet air expanded into the room, the smell and sound of the storm sending me right back to that rooftop ... 

_Don’t turn around,_ I commanded myself. _Don’t rush it. Don’t push him._ But I did. 

“Have you decided yet? Whether you want to get involved with a good guy or not?” 

“I have.” 

“And …?” 

“And I invited you here in your official capacity as a superhero, so I wasn’t going to make a move _tonight_ … but I was secretly hoping for a kiss good-bye." 

The rain crashed down as I launched into his arms and gave him one. He clutched me tight, bearing my weight so I could wrap my legs around his waist. We paused only to hastily shove our masks out of our mouths’ way. 

“Alexa, play something romantic,” was all he said before dipping back to me and bracing himself against the wall. 

Some old song I’d never heard before came on, and, I’m embarrassed to say, when it climaxed … so did I. In my defense, it was a very long song. Also we were making out, grinding our hips, his hands on my ass. And _he_ came, too, thank you very much. Unless he was just faking it to make me less self-conscious (either way, v. romantic). 

We held each other for part of the next song, just breathing. At last he set me down with a peck on the lips and a squeeze on the butt. 

“See you ‘round, Spidey.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nailed it.

When I reached the tower, sopping wet and sticky, I called May and told her not to wait up ‘cause I might have to spend an hour or two talking Mr. Stark down from a lapse in ethics … again.

“Just be naive about it, y’know, really twist the knife.”

“Oh, I will. I have a plan.”

“Dinner’s in the fridge. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I refined this plan while I tossed my suit in the washer (cold, with like colors, tumble dry low). I rehearsed it while I showered. And I set it into motion when I uploaded footage of the meeting with Eddie and Venom. Then I very calmly put on a too-big tee and my Hello Kitty pants and padded into the lab, still towelling my hair.

Fortunately, my target was there. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone.

“Hey, kid, you’re early. Are you hungry? Cap brought Panera.”

This development could work in my favor … although Cap might actually be _mad_ about the whole deviating-from-the-employee-handbook thing. But it was too late to scrap the plan.

“Guys … I’ve done something …”

Going a little pale, they laid aside their soups and gave me their full attention.

“I went behind your backs and stuck my nose in Avengers business, and it was extremely dangerous, and I am so, _so_ sorry.”

They were on the edges of their lab stools, ready to burst with worry and anger, right where I wanted them. I took a deep breath.

“Okay, so Deadpool approached me tonight. He caught the alien, but it’s a symbiotic lifeform named Venom, embedded in a man named Eddie Brock. They’re on the run from the Life Foundation. See, Eddie’s a reporter, and he was investigating the company for killing homeless people by subjecting them to horrific experimentation, which turned out to be part of a grand invasion scheme. They were able to thwart the invasion. However, in doing so, they killed Carlton Drake, whose father has since taken over both the company and the symbiote called Riot. And Riot’s extremely pro-invasion. And extremely pro-hunting Eddie and Venom down like dogs. And, like, Venom is Eddie’s only line of defense against Drake and Riot. Venom can’t survive on this planet without a host, and hosts are difficult to keep alive unless it’s a good match. Eddie’s a good match. They are fully aware that their methods of saving the world are not up to Avengers standards, and they’re sorry-not-sorry about it, because they genuinely _are_ trying to save the world. They’re not asking for help, but they would appreciate non-intervention. Which would, unfortunately, include not forcing Venom to undergo any physiological testing or separation from Eddie. And I can see their point; you do a lot of business with Life. Not to mention the mere possession of such knowledge would make you a target for some very awful people. So, please, please, Mr. Stark, don’t put them under the microscope.”

“Are you done?” he snapped. “‘Cause I’m a little lost. You’re telling me that you got a tip about the alien and followed it up without so much as texting me?”

I nodded, eyes lowered.

“And you’re asking me, pretty please with a cherry on top, to _not_ do everything in my power to prepare for a _planned invasion_ by an alien species that _bites off people’s heads_?”

“Tony, the kid has a point,” Cap attempted to interject.

“What point? Live free or die? How libertarian of you. Well we just _might_ die if Venom gets to live free! This could be an end-of-humanity situation we’re discussing here.”

“Mr. Stark …” Not wanting him to turn his anger on Cap, I skipped a few steps of my plan and went right for the jugular. “Do you remember that episode of _Star Trek: The Next Generation_?”

“Don’t you dare-”

I put on my best puppy dog eyes. “The one you made me watch?”

“I swear to god, you are grounded until college-”

“I think it was season two or something-”

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me to keep Venom alive and anonymous!”

“And Picard had to-”

“ _Enough!_ Okay. You win. I won’t violate a sentient being’s bodily autonomy. But the needs of the many still outweigh the needs of the few or the one. This has to go both ways. I am obligated to stop doing business with Life, and I’ll have to get some eyes and ears over there for intel on the invasion thing, sic Pepper on their corporate asses, disrupt their operations ...”

“Absolutely. All Eddie and Venom want is medical privacy.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll just, uh …” Cap stood to go, looking about as shocked as I’d ever seen him, “... go draft a memo.” He paused as he passed and threw me an almost frightened glance. “You gotta teach me how to do that _Star Trek_ thing.”

“Am I in trouble?” I asked, under my breath as soon as I thought Cap was out of earshot.

“For a little snooping? No. I’m more concerned that you might be letting your crush cloud your judgment. He’s a magnet for violence, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know. I’ll keep my guard up.”

“And I will waive any and all punishment if you swear you’ll never teach Cap how to speak _Star Trek_.”

“Deal.”

\--------------------------

I was walking along the next afternoon, headed to my internship, minding my own business and not paying much attention to my surroundings … until a yellow cab, parked innocently outside Stark Tower, honked right in my ear. It kept honking until I turned to look at the driver.

My spider sense never went off, so I was completely blindsided to find Deadpool reaching from the back seat, squishing poor Dopinder, and laying on the horn. My chest constricted in shock, and I tripped over my own feet. Next thing I knew, Deadpool was helping me up and brushing me off. I panicked, and I’m sure it showed.

“Sorry, kid, didn’t mean to scare you. I just came to talk to Tony, but you’re the next best thing, right?”

I probably looked like I didn’t comprehend his words, ‘cause I truly didn’t.

“I just wanted to thank him, but not be sappy or like I’m groveling or whatever. I dreaded actually _doing_ it the whole ride here, but now I can just have _you_ tell him.”

I nodded. I’d have agreed to almost anything to put this conversation out of its misery.

“I couldn’t do that thing he hired me for, but he paid me anyway. And I want him to know that I know that I owe him big time. Will you tell him?”

I nodded again.

“And, hey, it can’t be easy being Tony Stark’s secret son, but if it’s any consolation, you probably have lots and lots of half siblings out there … so be careful who you date.”

With that he leapt back in the cab, and it peeled out into traffic.

I couldn't move for a moment, wondering very much whether I should be quaking in terror or doubled over laughing. I stared up at the Tower as if it had just sprung from the ground that morning. I looked down the street at the cab as it wove it's way around a corner. I think I had forgotten how to walk, or where I was going or why. Then my spider-sense went off, and I was almost relieved to feel it, to be reminded that the world hadn't ended because I'd had another close call. (Like a _really_ close call, though. I mean if I'd accidentally started talking he'd have recognized my voice for sure-)

Police sirens to the east cut through the intrusive thoughts. 

_Right. Gotta save the day._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade has a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wade's POV

So I’m chilling at home one night, right? Just kicking back with my feet up, beer open, and jammies on. My lot in life had improved considerably over the past 24 hours, and I was settling in to celebrate my $9,000,000 paycheck, Venom’s freedom, and the tender affections of an itsy bitsy spider.

While I queued up some _Bachelorette in Paradise_ , though, that very same spider came smashing through the living room window, landing in a writhing, bleeding heap on my area rug. I’m man enough to admit that I shrieked. 

Once I’d composed myself, I knelt and rolled him onto his back. 

“What happened?”

“I found Eddie, cornered by a SWAT team.” He was shaking, voice weak. “There was a grate … Eddie couldn’t get through, but Venom could ...”

“Shit.” I scooped him up and carried him straight to the bathroom.

“I just wanted to help.”

I draped him within easy reach of the toilet and daubed at his wounds with fistfuls of TP. “Why aren’t you at the Tower?”

“Apparently I’m an ‘adequate’ match. Venom says I’ll just be sick for a few hours, so I was going home. Couldn’t make it that far … fell a few times.”

With relief, I only found scrapes and cuts beneath the blood, no bullet holes or stab wounds. “You need stitches.”

“Please don’t tell Iron Man.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Seized with a sudden fear, I lifted his mask for a reassuring kiss. “We’ll get you through this.” _I can’t lose another one._

“Not now,” he groaned, “I gotta puke.”

\----------------------------

Spidey held on for an hour or so of hurling and high fever. Then he curled up on a few dirty towels and passed out. I moved him to the bedroom, and I picked up my phone and dialed Stark Tower.

“Yes, this is Wade Wilson, I need to talk to Steve Rogers.” I waited while the operator checked a list and patched me through.

I’d never actually spoken to the guy, and wasn’t looking forward to attempting it. I hated to be the bearer of news this bad, and I hated that I had to go behind my … _friend_ ’s back to bear it.

“What’s wrong, Wade?”

“Tony? I asked for Captain America.”

“He’s indisposed at the moment, and I saw the caller ID. _What’s wrong, Wade_?”

“Eddie has apparently been apprehended by the police … and Venom escaped.”

“Shit. I’ll put out some feelers, see if Eddie shows up in the system. Although something tells me he won’t. Do you know how we might identify if someone has been infected, I’ll have to alert all the hospitals.”

“Um, fever and vomiting and a voice in your head. I _really_ need to talk to someone else.”

“Well _fine_ then, here’s Cap. Jeez.”

“How can I help you, Mr. Wilson?”

I glanced guiltily at Spidey, still fast asleep, small and vulnerable on the bed. Desperation gave me the courage to speak. “Your pet tarantula is very sick.”

“Yeah, he called out today, said it might be food poisoning. Did he not make it home?”

“He’s with me … and he’s _actually_ suffering from a bad case of hosting Venom.”

“We’ll be there in ten minutes. Is he lucid?”

“No. He was adamant that I not rat him out, so I had to wait till he fell asleep to make the call.”

Cap made an angry, ‘aargh’ sort of noise and lowered his voice to a resigned growl. “God, he’s just like Tony.” Then he hung up on me, and so did my brain.

He was right. Spidey really _was_ just like Tony. _Oh no._ Holy shit balls. _No no no no no nonononono-_

Under any other circumstances, I would consider his mask inviolable until he chose to take it off. But I had to know. It only took a few more inches of skin to recognize my doom. The nose, the ears, the hair, it all added up. _The height, the weight, the attitude, the _panic_ whenever he saw me._ Slowly, I re-masked him.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I _knew_ this would end in tragedy. Although I hadn’t predicted it would end with me dying repeatedly and painfully at the hands of Tony Stark for the rest of eternity … or that I would deserve it. I’d always assumed Spider-Man was young. _Just not quite _that_ young._ This was wrong on so many levels. This was easily the worst thing I'd ever- Movement on the bed drew my eye, interrupting my internal self-hate monologue. Spider-Man had shifted, and blackness spread like ink across his costume.

“Hi, Venom.”

“Hi, Wade.” The ooze closed over Spidey’s head, his expressive teardrop eyes melting into an alien scowl.

“Is the kid okay in there?”

“He’s stable.” Rising, Venom moved with borrowed grace. He stood and brushed past me, twisting out of my grip when I tried to hold him back. “You can have him back when Eddie is safe.” With that he was out the window, and there wasn’t a goatfucking thing I could do about it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony doesn't say 'I told you so.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ********  
> I'm so sorry this is so late and so short. I accidentally went on a serious _Hannibal_ bender. WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME ABOUT THAT SHOW IN 2013?!?!?!?!k
> 
> If you've never heard of it, _Hannibal_ is an NBC series which functions as a prequel to _Manhunter/Red Dragon_ , _Silence of the Lambs_ , and the movie _Hannibal_ (which, if you've never seen/read them, are about serial killers and the FBI agents who love them lol). And, if you like Deadpool, then I feel comfortable recommending a freaky show with artistic ultraviolence, pitch black humor, cannibalism, trippy dream sequences, and explicitly bisexual thirst. In fact, if you like Deadpool, I can't recommend _Hannibal_ enough!
> 
> GO WATCH HANNIBAL!! THEN GO READ MY HANNIBAL FIC!!!! THIS SHOW IS SO GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!!!!!!! *falls off a cliff*  
> *******

Only moments later, Iron Man smashed another of my windows (and singed my carpet and knocked over the vase Russell made me at X-Camp). (Don’t worry, it didn’t break.)

“Where is he?” Tony demanded, helmet cracking open to reveal his extreme displeasure.

“You just missed him.” I took an involuntary step back.

“Look, I know you’ve been fucking Peter -”

_Oh shit. Shitshitshitshitshit._ “I swear on the grave of Nickelback’s career that I didn’t know how young he was until about five minutes ago, and according to Tom Holland’s IMDB page -”

“Shut up, Wade!” Tony glared tank missiles at me. “I’m not trying to get you in trouble. I was doing the same dumb shit at his age … and I know you care about each other. I’m trying to warn you not to let _Cap_ find out. He’s the one who’ll try to split you up.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve already consciously uncoupled. And may I say you’re being awfully flip about this whole Greek tragedy.”

“I just want him back alive. We’ll discuss it over high tea or something _after_ we save the kid.”

“Who else is coming?”

“Unfortunately no one. We found out Eddie’s on the Raft, and you, me and DuPre are the only ones close enough to get there in any kind of hurry.”

Something in his face seemed to break, and suddenly he just looked sad. Like _sad_ sad.

“Let him down easy, okay? Assuming any of us survive this.”

“I’ll try.”

“And I’m not going to say ‘I told you so,’ but this is _exactly_ the kind of situation we’d be better prepared for if I’d been allowed to study Venom.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

\---------------------

The Quinjet flight over the Atlantic was awkwaaaaaaaard.

It took Tony nearly the whole hour to get ~~Wilbur~~ Thaddeus Ross on the horn, and when he did, the guy was decidedly uncooperative.

“I can’t just sign this one over to you, Stark. His genes could save the world.”

“Is that what Drake told you? I mean, he’s not wrong, but I’m assuming that’s where you’re getting your intel on Eddie Brock.”

“Stop questioning my sources and start turning your plane around.”

“Well _my_ sources tell me that Eddie’s little friend has taken over Spider-Man’s body and will inevitably seek out its preferred host. So a) we have to save him, that’s non-negotiable, and b) you _really_ need us when a Symbiote all hopped up on spider powers knocks down the door.”

“It won’t get the chance; Brock’s being transferred to a research facility in a couple hours.”

“Yeah, well we’ll be there in a couple _minutes_. Don’t bother surfacing.”


End file.
